Blaine have I loved
by howitfeelstoloveagirl
Summary: Young lovers Kurt and Blaine were about to start their lives in New York City. But then came the attack, changing everything. Five years later Kurt is living in Hell. Along with a heart broken Santana he is surviving but not living. And then he see's Blaine. But is it really Blaine, or just Kurt's alcohol addled imagination? Either way, Kurt is not willing to let him go.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or its character, obviously. If I did, It would be much gayer.**

* * *

**PRESENT DAY:**  
**August 19th 2017.**  
**Kurt Hummel:**

I'd seen him. I was sure of it. My logical mind couldn't make sense of it. I knew he was dead, after all I'd watched it happen. But there wasn't a doubt in my mind it had been him standing outside the coffee shop window. A place not unlike one which we'd spent most of our adolescence. A place where'd he'd first said "I love you" and where I'd said "I love you too".

I know it was his eyes. It had been five years bit I'd know his eyes anywhere. It was an image burned into my memory. His hazel eyes, always so calming and reassuring. I could see those eyes peaking up at me from under the covers, shining bright as he laughed.

There was also the other memory of those eyes, one I tried my hardest to forget. But I never had such luck. All I had to do was close my eyes to see him lying there helplessly, blood trickling down his face. His hazel eyes locked on mine, desperate and scared. I could hear him calling out my name, crying for help. But I couldn't help him. I could hardly move myself. Slowly his cries stopped and then I was lying there next to him, but more alone than I'd ever been.

One night had taken everything away. The love of my life was left in a bloody pool, a hammer tossed beside him carelessly. Finn says I'm too graphic, that I've no boundaries or sense of control. Really, I just don't care anymore. That tends to happen, when you lose everything you ever wanted.

I never thought I would see him again. I'd thought those hazel eyes, the dark curls; were all but a memory. But today I saw him. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the lack of sleep or even the pain meds. But maybe, just maybe it was him.

I'd never been one for the supernatural. God, afterlife, ghosts; it had been a joke to me. But when you lose someone you'll find you'll believe anything. And there wasn't a fibre in my body that didn't hope it had really been Blaine I'd seen this afternoon, and not just my subconscious. Because that would mean Blaine wasn't gone, he wasn't nothing.

I was nothing without Blaine. I needed him. I didn't know why or how he'd come, if it was real or all in my mind. But however it had happened, I knew one thing for certain; I needed to see him again. I needed to hear his voice one last time.

* * *

**PAST DAY:**  
**August 22nd 2012:**  
**Kurt Hummel:**

**7:14 pm**

"I never thought it would happen with me and the boy in the blazer." I sighed happily. "He's my fairytale prince."  
"You two are adorable, Kurt!" Rachel giggled. "If I was a gay boy I'd be insanely jealous. Still am, actually."  
"Remember when you told me I make you want to be my boyfriend? I must have some charm to make you consider a gender swap." I teased, taking another sip of coke.  
"At least I didn't profess my love for you like Mercedes! What is it about you that makes girls fall in love with you?"

"It's the eyes, definitely the eyes."

I glanced over and smiled warmly. Blaine slid into the booth beside me, scooting closer until we were touching. Blaine put his arm around my shoulder, squeezing gently.  
"But it's the fact that you're superior at everything that drives them away." Blaine winked playfully.

I laughed lightly. "That's okay, I don't want the girls to stay anyways. Just the boys."  
"Boys, plural?" Blaine mocked being angry, throwing his hands in the air. "How many boys are there, Kurt?"  
"Oh, you know, three or four... this week." Blaine nudged me playfully in the ribs.  
"Ticklish!" I yelped, trying to wiggle free of Blaine's grip. "Blaine!" I whined. He sighed and pulled me back into his arms.

"Relax." he smiled, leaning down for a kiss, his lips soft and familiar. He pulled away and gave me a quick wink. I seized my chance, reaching out and tickling his stomach. We collapsed on the booth laughing.

We were beginning to attract strange looks from other customers in the restaurant.

"Excuse me, can you be quiet!" An elder woman hissed from the next booth over.  
"Sorry." We muttered, stifling laughter. Across from us Rachel was shaking her head in disapproval.  
"Idiots." She sighed, yet a smile tugged at her lips.

"Girls just wanna have fun" slowly faded away. The crowd applauded politely as a nervous, young girl practically flew from the stage.  
"Up next, we have Gina with "Beautiful"! Let's give Gina a welcoming round of applause!" The MC exclaimed.

"I think we're up next!" Rachel clapped excitedly. "I signed us up for lots of songs, don't worry! That reminds me, I should add "Piano Man", that's always a crowd pleaser. Plus, we are in a bar so it only seems fitting."  
"Restaurant." Blaine corrected her.  
"Bar sounds more promiscuous. Singers and songwriters hang out in bars. Young artists, such as ourselves!"

I rolled my eyes and took another sip of coke, watching Blaine and Rachel discuss our set list for tonight enthusiastically.  
"We need more Barbara Streisand!" Rachel persisted.  
"As long as we add more Katy Perry!" Blaine added.

Sometimes it was hard to believe all of this was real. In just a few weeks I was heading off to New York with my boyfriend and best friend to go study music as NYADA. I was happier than I'd ever been in my entire life. I could finally forget about the bullies from high school. All that was over and done. A new city, a new start. Finally, a life I could call my own.

"Santana! Brittany! Just in time!" Rachel cried, hurrying over to pull up chairs for our friends.  
"Hey guys." Santana said. "We would have been here sooner but Brittany over here insisted we walk."  
"You need thirty minutes of physical activity a day or bad things will happen." Brittany said seriously.  
"Britt, I told you, what we did last night counts, and that was way longer than thirty minutes."

Blaine and Rachel exchanged puzzled looks. Santana caught my eye and winked. I rolled my eyes in response, but I couldn't help but laugh.

"So, what song am I singing?" Santana asked. "And for the love of god don't say you signed me up for some tear jerker. I wanna dance with Britt tonight." She smiled over at Brittany, their pinkies linked.  
"Is Valerie okay? You're up with that right after us." Rachel asked, checking her notebook.  
"Excellent. Now where's the waitress at? I need some scotch to get that raspyness."

"Santana, we're underage!" Rachel hissed under her breath, glancing around.  
"Oh, relax!" Santana laughed, leaning back in her seat. "We're almost out of this shit hole anyways."

"Did you decide what you're doing yet, Santana?" I asked.  
"New York bound, baby!" She exclaimed. I noticed Brittany look away at this, the smile sliding off her face.

There was a round of applause, I joined in hastily, not having noticed the song end.  
"Up next, Klainchel will sing U2's "Beautiful Day"!"

"RACHEL!" I glared at her. "Klainchel! Are you serious?"  
"Yes!" She giggled, grabbing my hand and dragging me out of the booth. My eyes darted over to Blaine but he just shrugged.  
"This is so embarrassing!" I whined as I was hauled over to the stage.

I climbed up the stairs, grabbing a mic from the MC and standing next to Blaine.  
"Hi I'm Rachel Berry! I hope you're all having a great night!" The crowd just stared back at her.  
One group of young men in the front sat up a little straighter, muttering to one another and sneering up at us.  
I felt my heart flutter. I realized I was getting incredibly nervous.

"You're not supposed to make a speech." Blaine whispered to Rachel, but she paid him no attention.  
"Me and my friends really hope you enjoy this. It's a song that's always been very close to my heart, ever since-"

I could tell Rachel had more to say but the music cut her off. It seems the MC could also tell that would have been a long and useless story, which would also have caused me further embarrassment. I tried to remember to thank him later.

Rachel began to sing. Her voice beautiful and powerful like always, hitting every note with precision.

"The heart is a bloom  
Shoots up through the stony ground  
There's no room  
No space to rent in this town."

Blaine was next. His low and clear voice was soothing. I smiled, forgetting my nerves and instead watching him. He was so at peace, so happy while singing. It reminded me of the first time I saw him sing, which also happened to be the moment I fell in love with him.

"You're out of luck  
And the reason that you had to care  
The traffic is stuck  
And you're not moving anywhere."

When my part came I was ready. I sang as loud and smooth as I could.

"You thought you'd found a friend  
To take you out of this place"

I heard laughter. I frowned and looked around the crowd. Many of them looked impressed, some were even swaying in time to the music. But that same group of men at the front were laughing. They smirked up at me. I bit my lip, glancing over at Blaine. He looked upset and angry, but when he caught my eye he smiled encouragingly. I took a breath and continued.

"Someone you could lend a hand  
In return for grace."

"Fag."

I whipped around. Those men were cheering now, calling out inaudible words, slurring their sentences. If the dozens of empty beer bottles on their bottle were any indication, they were drunk out of their minds. Yet it still hurt just as much.

I could sense tears welling up in my eyes but I fought them back. No, I wouldn't let them get to me. Not tonight. This was the first night of the rest of our lives, we deserved to have fun.

"I'm fine." I said as we left the stage before Blaine could say anything. "Seriously, it's fine."  
"It's not."  
"It is."

Blaine put his arm around me but I shrugged him off, hurrying to catch up with Rachel.  
"We were brilliant." I said. "Especially you, that last note-"  
"I can't believe those homophobes, are you okay? Should we leave."  
"Not you too." I groaned. "It's fine! It doesn't even matter. I sound girly, I know, and it's fine."  
"Kurt, I know you're upset." Blaine began seriously.  
"I am not." I looked away and ignored him stubbornly.  
"It's okay to be upset, I am too."  
"Well I'm not so let's just forget this and move on. Finn will be here soon and then we can have the pool tournament."  
"But-"  
"Blaine! It's fine."

I hurried away from him and over to Santana. Her and Brittany had just exited the bathroom with a fresh coat of makeup.  
"We're ready!" Santana declared.  
"Good luck!" I reached over and straightened her hair bow, it's bright red standing out brilliantly against her dark hair; a touch I'd added earlier.

* * *

**11:07 pm**

"Your shot."

Finn handed me the pool cue and I eyed the table, my mind working fast to take in all the possible outcomes. Pool was something I was good at. It was relaxing, refreshing. I was able to focus all my attention on the game, concentrate on just me and the balls; a metaphor I used once and had made Finn roar with laughter and fall of his chair. His lack of maturity had never shone brighter.

I sunk Finn's ball quickly and swiftly. I smiled smugly at him, passing over the pool cue.  
"Fat chance winning now."

"I hate playing with you, you always win." Finn bent over his cue, his brows furrowed in concentration. I sighed and glanced around, this could take a while. The longer along in the game we got and the farther ahead I pulled, the longer it took Finn to make up his mind on the shot. He was the most indecisive person I'd ever met. The absolute opposite of me. I knew what I wanted and I went for it without hesitation.

Blaine was up on the stage with the girls, singing drunkenly to a Coldplay song. I laughed softly, watching him stumble around with Brittany, Santana and Rachel doing what could just barely be described as dancing.  
"Hey, Finn, they kind of look like you when you dance sober." I joked.  
"Sh I'm in the zone."

The restaurant was almost empty now. Only a few groups were left, all too drunk to be paying attention to the singers, surely, because I was pretty sure Blaine and Santana didn't even know this song and were just slurring random noises together.

The group of young men from earlier had left a few minutes ago, thank god. They'd been making me very anxious, sneering at me from the next pool table. Finn was, as always, oblivious. But I suppose that was good, I didn't want him worrying. He worried way too much as it was.

"Damnit."

Finn's ball fell through the hole, mine remaining untouched. I grabbed the cue carelessly and shot the 8 ball down the hole. My streak continued.  
"All hail the king."  
"Oh shut up." Finn muttered, cursing to himself. "Why can't I ever win one game?"  
"Cause you're playing the king."  
"No, seriously, I suck." I glanced sideways at him. He looked really down. Something told me it wasn't just about pool anymore. In a few days Rachel would be leaving for New York, and Finn too. But Finn had no idea what he'd do in New York and I could tell it was really upsetting him.

"Don't worry, I'll teach you my magic. I'll make you my pool apprentice. Soon you'll be the pinball wizard of pool."  
"Except I won't be deaf, dumb and blind."  
"Well... Nah I'm just kidding with you. Don't worry, Finn. And don't worry about New York. Everything will be okay." I smiled up at him, putting a tentative hand on his shoulder.  
"Thanks, dude. You're pretty cool, you know."

* * *

**11:47 pm**

"That was awesome! Did you hear my California Girls? I killed that song. Katy would be proud. Katy is a funny name. Like, if you say it really fast. Katy, katy, katy, katy, katy..."

I laughed quietly, smoothing down Blaine's messy hair as he rambled on about Katy Perry, a subject he knew more than he'd care to admit. I don't know how many times I'd caught him scrolling down her wikipedia page, or blogging on his katy tumblr. .com. He just about died when I'd found that.

We walked slowly to our car. Slowly, because Blaine was extremely drunk and pretty much unable to move too far on his own without falling over or throwing up. I cursed Blaine for having parked so far from the door. He was so damn heavy.

I'd almost heaved him to the end of the deserted parking lot when I heard them. Their footsteps were heavy, their shadows large and lumbering. There were a dozen of them, and they came at us from all angles. My heart sped up. I whipped my head around, searching frantically for a way out.

It all happened too fast. Before I could even cry out they were there, a fist making contact with my stomach. I cried out as I fell to the group and Blaine was ripped away from me. I looked up in a daze. Dark eyes loomed over me.  
"Fucking queers, don't fucking parade around here, flaunting your fagginess. It's disgusting."  
"Teach you a fucking lesson."

His breath was hot on my neck. I could spell liquor and cigarettes. To my left, I saw Blaine. His arm stretched out towards me, his eyes wide and desperate. I reached towards him but a heavy black boot stomped on my hand, crushing my fingers. Then the boot made contact with my face. I gasped, shooting pain searing through my body.  
"Don't hurt him!" Blaine screamed before getting kicked in the ribs. He clutched his stomach and cried out.

Boots and fists pounded at my every bone again and again. I tried to scream but couldn't find the breath to do so. I could hardly even see. Pain surged through me. It was as if a thousand knives were stabbing me all over. It didn't stop, not for a long time. A dull buzzing of sounds rang through my eyes. "Fag, Queer, Homo", it was all the same.  
I couldn't focus, I couldn't think about anything other than the pain and wanting it to stop. I tried to think of a way out but another strike would hit and I'd be consumed with pain again. I could only think of one thing, Blaine. Again and again his name ran through my mind.

And then it was over. The thundering and pounding subsided, a long metal rod fell to the ground next to me. I blinked in a daze, trying to focus on something other than the bright and blurry lights above me.  
"Blaine." I gasped out. "Blaine."

I rubbed my eyes, the muscles in my arm aching like crazy. Blood trickled onto my hands. I felt my forehead. It was wet and sticky. I lowered my shaking hands and focused my eyes. Blood. Everywhere. I barely had time to roll onto my stomach before I was throwing up.

I lay on the cool concrete. My head pounded and ached at the same time. My left arm was seared with pain. Moving it was near impossible. My chest stung. Breathing hurt like hell. I gulped in cool breaths greedily, but it wasn't enough. I simply couldn't get enough air.

Then I noticed Blaine. He lay ten feet away from me in a pool of blood. He was on his stomach, his face hidden by his arms. He was eerily still and silent. A steady flow of blood rushed from his head. I forgot my own pain, my own worries. I focused on him, on getting to him. I convinced myself if only I could reach Blaine everything would be okay.

I grimaced, trying to move my legs. I couldn't, they simply would not move. I panicked, trying without to feel something, anything. I managed to wiggle my left toes, but my right leg remained motionless, as if completely separated from my body.

I propped myself up on my arms, blinking back the tears and biting back the screams coming to me as the pain rushed through me. I dragged my weight over to Blaine. It was a slow and painful process. My one arm was supporting my entire body.

"Blaine." I gasped out, shaking him. He didn't move. "Blaine!" I cried louder now. I tried to push him onto his back but I didn't have the strength. I turned his head, his left eye stared up at me. His expression was blank, his eye dead. I felt my body giving up. My muscles were shutting down, my brain was blacking out.

I stared into his empty eyes, and in my dazed mind I thought that it didn't even look like him, it couldn't be him. It wasn't my Blaine. My Blaine was safe and happy. My Blaine was coming for me any moment. I could hear footsteps pounding on the pavement, drawing closer, shouts and cries grew louder. Someone was grabbing my shoulders, turning me over. I gazed up at Blaine, except it wasn't Blaine. It was Santana. Her face was alive with fear. She was saying something, talking to someone. I couldn't hear what she was saying, I couldn't focus. I could only think of one thing.

"Blaine." I mumbled before falling into blackness.

* * *

**PRESENT DAY**  
**August 19th 2017**

"Kurt?"

My eyes snap open and I hastily shove the beer bottle under the couch. Santana walks into the living room, throwing her purse on a chair and slipping out of her heels.  
"Ah, that feels so much better." She shrugs out of her tight fitting dress and slips on a pair of sweatpants lying on the back of the couch. I couldn't really say our apartment is all that neat.  
She searched through the pile of clothes on the floor and settles on a plain black tank tops. She pauses as she puts in on, staring at me and biting her lip. I stare back.  
"You've been drinking." She doesn't ask, she states.  
"So have you." I can see in her eyes it's true. She sighs and sits down next to me, reaching under the couch and passing me the bottle I'd shoved there not long ago. I take it wordlessly and take another swig. We sit there in silence, both thinking the same thing, but neither saying it aloud.

Five years. It will be five years on saturday. Five years since the attack. Five years since we lost Blaine. It's enough to make me want to throw myself out the window. But I can't. Santana and I have a deal. We made it in the dead of night years ago. It's complicated, but neither of us has broken it in the slightest.

We're both hurting. I lost Blaine, she lost Brittany. Unlike Blaine, Brittany is still alive. Actually, she's doing quite well. It angers me sometimes, because Santana is hurting so much. Brittany broke her heart, even if she didn't mean to. I still catch Santana stalking Brittany's facebook page, crying over the pictures of Brittany and her new fiance. I say nothing though, because I do the same thing.

Rachel told me it's creepy, to look through Blaine's facebook page. He's been dead so long. But I like it, it makes me feel better when I miss him. I look through the pictures, laugh at his funny captions, study his face. I read through his posts, our old conversations I never deleted. I like to see us then, so happy, so full of life. We were dreamers, always talking about the future. Well the future's here, and it is nothing like we imagined it. How can it be, when one of us is gone?

"Want to watch TV?" Santana asks.  
No, I think, And you don't either. But I nod my head because that's what we do. We lie and pretend we're okay. We pretend to be normal, we pretend to be living.

Santana puts on some home decorating show the old Kurt would have loved. I'm not paying attention, I don't really care about anything anymore.

Santana's cracked open her own bottle of beer. She's staring at the TV but I see the emptiness in her eyes, the pain shadowed behind them.

We drink. We let our minds slip further and further from our control. We let our thoughts fog up, our memories subside. We drink to forget. It doesn't work. But still we try.

I know I saw Blaine today. I think about telling Santana, but I don't want to worry her further. Besides, if the cause is alcohol or drugs she'd make me stop taking them. And I can't do that, especially not with the anniversary days away. Besides, secretly, I liked seeing Blaine. And I want to see him again. Even if it isn't real, it's real to me.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I hope you liked this, even if it's pretty angsty. It will continue to have many ups and downs. Please review, I love to know if you like it and if I should continue. Also, I'm pretty open to promps. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: As usual, I do not own Glee or it's characters (Sadly).**

* * *

**AUGUST 21 2017**  
**7:05 am**  
**Kurt Hummel:**

My days begin the same way they start, lying in bed thinking about death. It's not so much that I want to die, but rather that I want to be with him. But as much as I want to die, I know I could never bring myself to do it, to end my own life. Everytime I pick up the rope from the back of my closet I think of my dad, and my friends, I couldn't do that to them. But most of all, I think of Blaine. He wouldn't want me to do it. I could never let him down.

"Kurt! Are you going to fucking get up? I have to leave in nine minutes and if you aren't ready I'm leaving without you!" Santana yelled angrily from down the hall.

I opened my eyes wearily and sat up slowly, gazing out the window at the Columbus skyline. Our apartment was on the tenth floor, and in the heart of the city. The view was stunning. The rising sun created a glow over the magnificent buildings, and the Scioto River was calm and still in the morning light.

But it didn't make me feel any better when I remembered what day it was. Sunday the 21rst of August. Tomorrow would be the fifth anniversary. I felt like I was going to be sick.  
"No, go on without me." I tried to keep my voice as steady and normal sounding as I could.

"Are you sure?" Santana stood in the doorway and regarded him wearily. "I can wait, you know, if you want." Her expression softened. "I know it's really hard for you right now."

I looked down, pretending to be very focused on finding a pair of pants in my laundry basket. It was unhealthy, I know, but I didn't like to talk about it. It was just too painful.

Santana bent down and gave me a quick kiss on the forehead. I continued to be transfixed by my laundry. She sighed and turned to leave.  
"See you for lunch?"  
"Yeah, whatever." I mumbled, wishing she'd leave already because I couldn't repress the tears much longer.

When I heard the front door shut I lept up, hurrying over to the closet. I dug around until I found what I was looking for. I pulled out a black shoebox from a pair of shoes I'd gotten from my dad years ago. But it wasn't the box I wanted, it was what was inside.

I brought it over to the bed and set it down very carefully. I kneeled on the floor beside it, letting my tears fall fast and thick. The lid slid off smoothly. I gazed down at its contents with a mix of pleasure and sorrow.

I gingerly removed the contents and placed them around on my bed. There was the tiara and crown from our junior prom. Roses he'd given me for our anniversary. The bowtie ring he'd made me for Christmas out of candy wrappers. I shook with sobs, holding the tiny ring. "Forever" he'd inscribed on the box.

Lastly, there was a neatly folded tie. I took it out with trembling hands. It's blue and red stripes were so familiar to me. I held it tightly to my face, breathing in the scent. It smelt like him, like his lavender hair gel.

"I miss you." I cried. "I need you, here, Blaine. I don't know how to do this without you. I've been trying, but it's so hard. I just don't know what to do."

"I miss you too." I whipped around and blinked. He was standing there in the doorway, just as solid and as real as Santana had been minutes ago. There he was, with his dark gelled hair and navy blue blazer.

"Blaine." I breathed, hardly believing it. I stood up numbly and made my way over to him in a daze. I stared at his face, greedily taking it all in. His triangular eyebrows, his hard set jaw, his brilliant hazel eyes. His face was perfect, his skin smooth and free of bruises or cuts. This was my Blaine, the Blaine I loved. The Blaine I needed. I reached out to touch him, to hold him in my arms. But he backed away. I noticed tears in his eyes.

"What's happening?" My voice cracked. "Is this real?"  
"I am not alive, no. But I am here." His voice was soft and smooth.  
"I don't understand."

Blaine sighed, watching me sadly. "Neither do I, really." He began. "I came to see you, Kurt. I see you hurting, and I know it's because of me. I can't bear to see you this way. I can't cross over until I know you're going to be okay."

"Cross over...?"

"To the other side, to "heaven" as you'd know it as. I can't do it, not yet. I can't let go of this life I had. Not until I know you're okay. You were my whole life Kurt. I thought staying away would be better for you, that it would help you move on. I was wrong, it seems."

"You're not really Blaine, are you? You're just my imagination. Is it the sleeping pills? I know I'm only supposed to take one but I can't stand it sometimes. Or the alcohol? Because I never meant to drink that much, the other day. But with the anniversary coming up so soon.." I trailed off.

I was more confused than I'd ever been. I knew this couldn't be true. There was no such things as ghosts and spirits. It had to be a hallucination. But that didn't mean I didn't want it to be true.

"This is really me." Blaine said steadily. "You don't have to believe me, I probably wouldn't if I were you. But listen to me. You can't live like this anymore, it's killing you. You need to go back to school, or get a job you like. You deserve to be doing what you love. Don't avoid that in fear of doing something I'd have loved. I know New York and Broadway was our dream, but that doesn't mean you can't do it alone. I want you to be happy, Kurt, even if it's without me. Don't stop living just because I did."

The truthness of his words stung, but it didn't make it any easier.

"I've tried, Blaine, and I can't. I'm not as strong as you."

"You're right. You're stronger." I blinked at him in disbelief. Had he not seen me moments ago, crying over a tie? "You stood up to the bullies when I never could. You were never afraid to be who you were, you stood tall and proud. You taught me to be proud of myself too."

"But after-"

"After you grew even stronger. You carried on even when you didn't want to. You moved away, got a job, you grew up alone. You turned into a man. But Kurt, you owe it to yourself to be happy. And now you owe it to me."

I knew what he was saying was true. Blaine, or my hallucination of Blaine, was always the level headed one. He wasn't melodramatic like me. He was logical and smart. I'd always respected that about him.

"Can I touch you?" I asked nervously, reaching out with trembling fingers.

He hesitated, but nodded. "I don't want to make this harder on you, I don't want you to get too attached, because I can't stay here with you forever. I can already feel the pull weakening. I need to go back soon. But, yes, you can touch me. I think we both need that."

I collapsed in his arms. I hugged him tight. He felt so solid, so strong. So real. I held tighter than I ever had before, unwilling to let him go. His eyes were on mine, he was so close I could taste his breath. He was cold, like he'd been in somewhere much cooler than an Ohio summer day. But it didn't matter. It was still Blaine.

"Yesterday, in the coffee shop, that was you, wasn't it?"

"Yes. I'm sorry, I really wanted to see you up close. I was tired of watching from afar. I miss you so much." His voice sounded clipped, broken. I could feel my stomach sinking. The one thing I'd always told myself was that Blaine was free now, that he wasn't hurting anymore. But, it didn't seem that was true. That is, if all this isn't just a hallucination. I was more confused than ever.

"Why didn't you come before?" I asked, holding onto the off chance this was really my Blaine, here in my arms.

"I did." He began, and I was hit with a sudden understanding.

"The hospital!" I cried out. "But, I thought that was a hallucination. That's what everybody told me. I was on so many different medications, it was a side effect of my drug addled mind.." Blaine was shaking his head.

"It wasn't, and neither is this. I know you don't really believe me, but it's the truth."

"I want to believe you." I whispered, nuzzling my head into his shoulder. The familiar feel of the Dalton blazer soothed me.

"I want you to too."

He pressed my forehead to his. I leant forwards and put my mouth on his, kissing him more passionately than ever before. Our tears streamed together. It was all so familiar to me, his touch. I felt his fingernails digging into my back but I didn't care.

We stayed like that for a long time, clinging to each other forcefully. Then I could feel him soften, his hold lessen. He felt lighter, less solid. Less..there.  
"What's happening?" I cried.

"I'm going back. But don't worry, I'll come back, okay? Just promise me you'll do your best to be happy. I want to see you smile, Kurt."

I pressed my face into his shoulder. My white knuckles grasped his blazer tightly. He rubbed my back soothingly, his hand slow and steady. And then he was fading away. I could feel him being taken away from me again. I screamed out, trying to take hold of something. But he disappeared, his eyes sad and shining with tears, until they were there no more.

"Blaine." I whispered quietly. Nobody responded. I gazed around my empty bedroom, never feeling quite so alone as I did in that moment.

* * *

**12:45 pm**

"Kurt, I brought some rolls from the bakery. Did you get my text about heating the oven?"

Santana. Shit. I froze, having completely forgotten about our lunch plans. I stepped out of my bedroom hastily.

Santana glanced at me quickly, rummaging around the kitchen putting away groceries. It was a good thing she did most of the shopping cause I'd never remember.

I watched her work, looking at her more closely than I had in a long time. I saw her everyday but most days I was too wrapped up in my own problems to notice hers. Especially after all shed done for me, I felt guilty realizing I wasn't the best friend to her.

Her exterior was neat and proper. She had black suit and bright pink v neck underneath. Her hair was long and sleek, her makeup fresh and simple. But there was no mistaking the dark circles under her eyes. Inside, I knew she was hurting.

"How was work?" She asked distractedly as she put some frozen rolls into the oven.

"Um.." I paused. Honestly, I'd completely forgotten about work. Blaine had wiped my mind clear of anything else.

"You didn't go." She turned to me with an exhausted expression on her face. "What did they say when you called in sick? You've already missed so many days..." her eyes narrowed, taking in my sheepish expression. I fiddled with the zipper on my sweatshirt, avoiding her eyes.

"You didnt even call? Kurt! I know this is hard for you but you can't loose your job!" She snatched up the phone.

"I'll do it-" I began hurredly.

"No, I will." she snapped, already dialing.

"Hello, Mr. Lewis? This is Santana Lopez, Kurt's roomate... Yes, I know. That's why I'm calling. I came home to find he is very sick. Too sick to be able to call in this morning... Yes, I understand. I'll tell him. Thank you."

She hung up and turned to glare at me. "Well, you're about this close to being fired."

"Sorry." I said quietly. She had already turned away from me, banging pots around loudly in the kitchen.

"I really am sorry, San." I said earnestly. "I'm sorry for bring such a crappy friend. I'll do better from now on, I promise."

"you don't have to apologize, it's okay. I'm sorry for flipping out on you. I just have a lot of pressure at work right now, and then there's..." she trailed off, putting on a strained smile.

"Let's just start over today, okay?"

"Okay." I gave her a small smile. "Since I'm too sick to work the afternoon, I'll make dinner."

"Okay, just don't cough in it or anything." She said sarcastically.

"Only in yours." I winked.

I looked out the window, wondering if Blaine was watching. I know it was stupid to believe in ghosts and such, but I really did believe that was Blaine that had visited. And after all these years of wishing for him, I really did feel better, if even only a bit. I just hoped he would be true to his word and return.

* * *

**August 22nd 2017**  
**10:08 am**  
**Santana Lopez:**

Five years. Five years to the day I came out of the restaurant to find two of my best friends lying in pools of their own blood. Five years to the day I had to pry one of them off the other, and gaze into their deadened eyes for signs of life.

It was the worst day of my life. I still had nightmares about it. I'd wake up with the image of a bloody and mangled Kurt in my mind. I'd have to remind myself he was okay now, even if that wasn't exactly true.

I'd lost two of my friends that day. Kurt had never been the same since Blaine had died. He'd lost that bubbly, enthusiasm we'd loved. He'd lost the desire, the determination. It was sad, to see your friend fall apart like that, knowing you couldn't give him what he needed.

I looked over to him. He was biting his nails in the seat next to me. He'd been too upset and anxious to drive. He was crying, but I don't think he even realized he was. His eyes were glazed over, distant. He'd been like that the whole drive so far.

We were going to Lima to visit Blaine's grave. We did so every anniversary. The others would be there too. Finn, Quinn, Rachel; the whole glee club. Along with warblers, Blaine's family, Kurt's family.

It always gave me nostalgia, seeing them all there. It was like stepping back into my high school self. Except this time everything was different. We were all older now, we all led different lives. But we were forever bonded by one thing; the loss of our friend.

I didn't really talk about it with Kurt. We never really discussed the hard issues. Neither of us are really that kind of person; to wear our emotions on our sleeves. But I knew he remembered the attack vividly. I could only imagine what he was thinking right now.  
I remembered that night like it was yesterday. I could close my eyes and replay it. I'd done so a thousand times. At first, I'd gone over every detail carefully. I was sure I could find something to nail the bastards that had done it. But there'd been no evidence. None of us could really describe their faces in detail. The sketches were simple and could have been anyone, really. And that's if the attackers were those guys in the restaurant. We didn't know. We probably never would. And it sucked.

It wasn't fair Blaine had died so young, and it wasn't fair Kurt had been attacked so viciously. They'd done nothing wrong. They'd deserved none of it.

I bit my lip and glanced over at Kurt as we passed the high school. He'd never gone back there. Neither had I. He avoided all places that reminded him of Blaine, really. And I couldn't blame him. I did the same with Brittany, and she wasn't even dead.

Brittany would be there today. I'd be lying if I would say I wasn't eager to see her. Sometimes I felt like I hated her, for breaking my heart. Sometimes I wanted to see her suffer. But I loved her. I always would. And I missed her more than anything.

I pulled off the highway and onto the winding uphill road to the cemetery. Next to me Kurt stiffened. I sighed, gazing into his bright green eyes, shining with tears and couldn't help but be brought back to that day five years ago...

* * *

**August 22nd 2012**  
**12:52 am**  
**Santana Lopez:**

"Oh my god, that was great." I laughed, gazing over at Brittany. Her golden locks shone in the moonlight.

"You liked my dance? You didn't think it was too much?" She asked.

"Took off too much, maybe." I laughed. By the end of her rendition of "Sexy and I know it" She'd been wearing only the bare essentials.

"Girls who turns into a stripper when drunk." Finn snickered, "I knew I was right."

"Hey, Britt, do you want a ride home?" Rachel came running up to us. "You live my way."

"Yeah, thanks, Rach." Brittany smiled, wobbling drunkenly over to Rachel.

"You'll make sure she gets home safe?" I ask.  
"Of course."

I smiled and headed over my car humming to myself. Finn followed me.

"What do you think you're doing?" He asked. "You're way too drunk to drive. Let me give you a ride, my car's over by the end of the lot."

"M'not drunk."I followed him, moving slowly. I was having a hard time putting one foot in front of the other. Okay, maybe I was a little drunk. I stumbled, and reached out to him. He held onto me, laughing.

"Yeah, you are totally not-" He stopped suddenly. I lurched forwards, almost falling over.

"What?"

He didn't say anything. I looked up at him. His face was frozen in fear. He slowly began to run forwards. I was confused. It was dark and I couldn't see anything.

"Finn?" I squinted. I could barely make out a lump on the pavement. I started to stumble towards it. Finn got there first and I saw him kneel down. And then I heard him scream.

I hurried over to him as fast as my drunken body would carry me. And then I saw it. My blood ran cold.  
"K-Kurt. " I gasped. I fell to my knees. He was covered in blood and bruises. Finn grabbed him and turned him over. His eyes blinked slowly. There was a large wound on his head. Blood gushed from it, pooling all over my hands and I tried to hold him steady.

Kurt had been lying on top of Blaine. Finn rolled him over, and moved beside him, blocking Blaine from my view. I heard Kurt whimper, and I focused my attention on him.

"Sh, baby, sh." I mumbled. My hands shook in disbelief as I shrugged out of my jacket and pressed it against Kurt's head. His eyes gazed up at me in confusion. His lips moved slowly, like he was trying to say something.

"Santana..." Finn was quiet. I looked over at him. His face was pale, tears sprang from his eyes. I followed his gaze down to Blaine. Blaine was lying still, Finn's hand still lying on his chest, which I noticed did not rise.

"He's cold." Finn mumbled.

It was Blaine's eyes that worried me most. They were open, but not blinking. Wide and dead, he looked up at the sky with a frozen expression. His mouth opened in shock.

"No." I breathed. "No, no, no."

"He's not breathing, he has no pulse." Finn pressed his head to Blaine's chest. "What do we do, oh my god, what do we do?" Finn's voice rose and he was whiping his head around wildly.

"Somebody help!" He called out. "Somebody help!"

"Call 911!" I searched through my jacket for my phone, pulling it out with shaking hands and throwing it at Finn. He opened it in a frenzy, dialing quickly.

"Blaine." Kurt mumbled. His hand scratched softly at mine. "Blaine." I could see his eyes closing, his body weakening.

"No! Kurt, no!" I screamed. I could hear Finn talking, but I couldn't make out what he was saying. I shook Kurt's shoulders, I slapped his face. I screamed and prayed for him to wake up. I wasn't willing to lose him.

Blood was pooling around me. I was confused. Kurt's head wound was covered by my jacket. My eyes trailed down his body and stopped on his legs. I felt bile rise in my throat. His legs were a mangled mess. His right one was the worst, covered in blood and bending at an odd angle, it was almost as if it wasn't fully attached. I ripped my jacket in half, pulling the second half over to his legs.

I hesitated, unsure where to apply pressure when clearly it was all a mess. There was so much blood. Kurt was turning paler and paler. His eyes were no longer watching me, but drifting away in odd directions.

I felt Finn lean over me. He pushed me aside gently. He had my cell phone in his lap. Someone was speaking to Finn, giving him instructions. Finn puts his hands on Kurt's chest and moved up and down rhythmically. I sat in stunned silence.

Finn put his mouth to Kurt's and breathed. At first I was confused. Why was Finn kissing Kurt? Didn't he realize how serious this was? But then I realized he wasn't kissing him, he was giving him air. And slowly Kurt's chest began to rise and fall. Finn continued, again and again.

Finn was saying something. There were more voices, more noises.I couldn't understand what was happening. I didn't really care. I was noticing Blaine, lying off to the side alone. I crawled over to him and touched his face. He was so cold. I gazed into his eyes. They were so empty. I felt fresh tears well up. I fell on top of Blaine, sobbing. I pinched his nose, I tried to copy Finn and give him breaths. His chest didn't rise like Kurt's.

"Santana." There was a hand on my shoulder. I shrugged it off, pressing my hand onto Blaine's neck when there was an open wound. But no blood was flowing. It was strange.

"He's gone." Somebody was saying. I didn't listen. They didn't know anything.

Somebody was pulling me up. I struggled, trying to get back to Blaine. But the person was strong. It was a man, a man in a police uniform. He was gentle, but strong.

"Sh, come with me." He pulled me away from Blaine and Kurt. A swarm of people in white were crowding them, shielding them from my view.

"No, Blaine, Kurt." I gasped, struggling in the man's grasp.  
"Sh. It's okay." He reassured me, placing me on the edge of a truck. Hands were on me, checking my pulse, looking into my eyes.

"It's okay." They all said. "Everything will be okay."

But they lied. Everything wasn't okay. It never was again.

* * *

**Author's Note: Okay, so I know this is VERY angsty. Don't kill me, okay? It gets better, I promise. **  
**I'm a sucker for Kurtana and Hudmel BROTPS, as you might be able to tell. I really love to explore those relationships.  
The whole "What is Blaine and what is he doing here" thing will be addressed quickly, and I'm sorry if I'm confusing anyone?**

To those of you who asked if the title is from the biblical quote "

**_"Jacob have I loved, but Esau have I hated", _****the answer is yes. I am not religious, I came across the quote when reading "Jacob Have I loved" a few years ago and it stuck with me. In both those cases, the quote is referring to twins, one (Jacob) loved more than the other (Esau). In my story the meaning is slightly different, but the idea of loving one significantly more is the point. The true meaning will be explained later in the story. Kurt will discuss the quote and his take on it.**

I'm really excited about this story, even if it's just beginning. I hope you like it, and as always, review :))


	3. Chapter 3

**PRESENT DAY**  
**August 22nd 2017**  
**Kurt Hummel:**

My whole body was shaking as we pulled up at the cemetery. I could see a large group of people standing in a cluster, surrounding something I knew to be Blaine's grave. I could hear Santana saying something, but I wasn't really paying attention. I was remembering coming here with Blaine to visit my mom. Now he was gone too. Here lay the two people that had always been closest to me, both gone forever.

Tears fell into my lap but I didn't care. I'd stopped caring a long time ago, really. Santana was touching my arm. Her lips were moving. I stuggled to focus on her.

"... Only if you want to, of course, but the memorial is starting soon." Her voice was quiet. Her eyes were large and worried. Her cheeks were wet. Sometimes I forgot Blaine was her friend too.

"I'm ready." I tried to say, but nothing would come out. I just nodded, and opened the car door. I heard her do the same.

I swung my left leg over easily. I grabbed my right thigh, and heaved it over. I let my hand run down my thigh and stop at knee, where the skin met plastic. I was used to it, it had been five years after all. I knew how to manage it, how to move fluidly. But sometimes I forgot for a moment. I'd look down in the morning when I was groggy and half asleep, not expecting the sight I saw. My right leg stopped at the knee.

The doctors had had to remove it. It was already too far damaged and disconnected. There was no reattachment possible. I hated the prosthetic. It was hard and heavy. It made walking a chore. But more than that, it was a constant reminder of what had happened, and what I'd lost. Those bastards had made sure I'd never forget what they took from me.

Santana took my hand and hers and squeezed, and together we made our way up the winding gravel path. I kept my eyes on my feet, counting the pavement squares. At this point I'd do anything to avoid thinking about today. I was afraid if I dropped my guard I'd lose control and never regain it.

But my mind couldn't repress the thought of him. The memory of his blank, dead eyes burned in my brain. His strangled screams for help rung out in my ears. It was his pain that hurt me most.

And there he was, right in front of me. Right below the freshly cut green grass. Wasn't it cold down there? Wasn't it dark? Blaine had never liked to be alone, especially for so long. I felt panic, distress. I let myself fall to the ground.

I lay on my stomach, breathing in the smell of grass and pine needles. I scrunched up my eyes, trying to repress the images that sprung in my mind. I shook with sobs. I wanted nothing more than to be with him, to place my hand in his.

I thought back to seeing Blaine in my bedroom. I hadn't told Santana, or anyone. I didn't know what to think or what to believe. But I knew what I wanted. I wanted it to be true. I wanted to see Blaine. I wanted for Blaine to still be thinking, speaking. I wanted for Blaine to be happy. I wanted us to be happy together.

* * *

**PRESENT DAY**  
**August 22nd 2017**  
**Finn Hudson:**

I'd been here since 7 this morning, setting up for the memorial. Or the "celebration of life" as Rachel called it. There was snacks and cakes, roses and candles. Rachel said we were going to use this as an occasion to remember Blaine and the happy moments we'd shared with him. She said we could gather to give thanks and celebrate Blaine, and the great person he was.

While Blaine certainly was great, and we should celebrate him, I knew today was going to be no such celebration. It would be horribly depressing, like every year. It would be an hour of silence and tears. As many great moments as there had been in Blaine's life, what we all remembered most was his last ones. Not by choice, but because they were so horrifying and unfair.

There was no way we could laugh today. Not when we thought of the brutal way Blaine was taken from us. And Kurt would be there. Kurt, who pretended he was okay but really wasn't. He hadn't been the same since. The ghost of Blaine's memory never left his eyes. He never quite looked happy. His eyes were sometimes as dead and haunted as Blaine's had been that terrible night five years ago.

There were a hundred or so of us here today. Blaine's family and friends, bonded forever by this shared pain. But nobody's pain was worse than Kurt's.

Kurt walked up the hill slowly with Santana. His hair was a mess, his face was blotchy and eyes bloodshot. He stood there for a moment, quiet and still. For a moment I thought this year would be different. Maybe he had been finally able to accept it, if only even a bit. But then he was running towards the grave, collapsing to the ground in shaking tears. Everybody went quiet. My stomach dropped and my hopes were shattered.

I moved through the crowd quickly until I'd reached my brother. I sat next to him and rubbed him back soothingly while he cried, wishing there was something I could do to ease him of his pain.

I used to believe there was a god, but now I wasn't so sure.

* * *

**PAST DAY**  
**October 30th 2012**  
**Finn Hudson:**

I peered into his room, careful not to step on the squeaky floorboard. I didn't want him to know I was checking up on him, although I doubt if he would really care. He doesn't seem to care about anything anymore.

He was lying on his bed as usual, staring at the ceiling with a dead look on his eyes. A look eerily similar to that of Blaine's three months ago, when we'd found his body in the parking lot. I thought back to something I'd overheard Kurt's therapist tell Mom and Burt, that Kurt was slowly killing himself. I felt sick thinking about it, but I knew it was true.

Ever since the attack Kurt had been miserable. He refused food, he barely spoke, he was disinterested in any sort of activity. It was killing me to see him like this. He'd survived the attack, but we'd lost the Kurt we'd known.

I don't know much, hell I hardly even passed high school. But I do know Blaine would have died seeing Kurt like this. I could practically hear Blaine yelling at me, urging me to do something, anything. Only I didn't know what to do.

Mom and Burt had some sort of unspoken rulebook of how to act around Kurt. There was a whole bunch a banned topics. They treated around him carefully. Maybe that was part of the problem? I found all these new rules so confusing and distressing, I just wanted thongs back to normal. And I'm sure Kurt does too. I can't give Kurt Blaine, but I can give him a reason to smile.

I got a sudden idea. I hurried down to the empty kitchen. Mom and Burt were out getting groceries. "Make sure Kurt's okay", they'd said. Well I could do better.

I yanked open the fridge and hastily began to pull out random ingredients; milk, butter, cheese; what I figured might go in cupcakes. Then I grabbed a big bowl and dumped spoonfulls of ingredients in with no particular order. This was actually kind of fun.

I remembered this one time I'd tried to make macaroni and cheese. It was last spring, and Mom and Burt were away and Kurt was on some sort of mad health kick and refused to make anything other than salad. And I just could not survive on salad. So I'd taken our a box of kraft dinner, boiled noodles and mixed it all together.

Nobody had told me you were supposed to drain the macaroni before you added the milk, butter and cheese powder! I'd ran frantically to Kurt, saying my macaroni was much more watery than when Mom made it. He'd laughed his head off at me, and brought it up at every chance he got.

Kurt was a great cook. He loved it. He was always trying new recipes and forcing us to eat and comment. It all tasted amazing to me.

He'd pretended to be annoyed at me that day, having to remake me macaroni. But secretly o know he liked the chance to flaunt his skills and feel superior. And now, with him being so depressed, I figured he needed to be reminded he was good at stuff.

I tossed in the final egg, wrinkling my nose at smell. Maybe the worchestire sauce was a little overboard but it was definitely a disaster now. If there was one thing I could say with certainty I could do, it was make messes.

Time for step two; Get Kurt. I ran up the stairs two at a time and flung open Kurt's door. His eyes snapped over to me but he didn't move.

"Kurt, I promised Mom I'd make cupcakes for her to take to work since she's so busy." Kurt cocked an eyebrow. Okay, maybe the idea of me baking was a little ludicrous.

"Well," I continued, "I kinda fucked up big time and I really need your help."

"I'm coming."  
For the first time in days Kurt spoke. His voice was soft and quiet, but still there. A smile stretched over my face.

Kurt sat up and swung his legs over the bed. He looked down at his right leg, biting his lip. I didn't know what to say or do.  
"Do you want your leg?" I asked hesitantly, spotting it propped up against his desk. Kurt nodded slowly, avoiding my eyes. At least he was responding though, these past couple of months he'd been more of a shell than a person. I missed my brother, and I hated seeing him in pain.

I passed Kurt the leg swiftly. He secured it in place slowly, fumbling with the unfamiliar motions. He'd hardly worn it. He'd hardly had to, really, he never left his room. He stood up slowly, wobbling slightly. I ushered over to help him. He glared at me and shoved my arm away.

"I want to do it alone."

I nodded, my heart breaking as I watched him hobble his way to the door, a frusterated look on his face. He was crying, though I wasn't sure if he even noticed.

It was hard to look at Kurt. It was hard to see him so broken and so upset. It was hard to look at his face and arms, covered in scars. His hair and clothes, usually so professional and styled, were messy and uncared for. It was hard to see Kurt like this, but I could never leave him alone like this, not when he needed me most, even if he wouldn't admit it.

Kurt made his way out the door, I followed slowly behind him, ready to catch him if he fell. He stopped at the top of the stairs. There were no railings or anything. He looked at me helplessly. I reached over and put my arm around his waist. He didn't resist. I heaved him up and carried him down the stairs.

"We'll figure out an easier way later." I said quietly. He nodded.

Tension broke as we surveyed the kitchen before us. It was an utter disaster. Flour, brown sugar, and chocolate chips were spread across the counters. It was my best masterpiece yet. I even noticed an egg on the floor. That was actually unintentional, but it was the final touch. It really read the "Help me Kurt I'm helpless" message I was trying to get across.

"You really weren't kidding." Kurt said. A smile played at his lips. "This is horrible, Finn, horrible! And why on earth did you take out ketchup? Or pickles! This is cupcakes! Not a hamburger!"

I grinned guiltily. Inside I was dancing with joy. This was Kurt like I knew him. Funny, smart and sarcastic Kurt.

"So, you're going to help?" I studied his face.

He rolled his eyes. "Well it's not like you can do this alone, is it? It's the macaroni crisis all over again." He walked over to the kitchen and grabbed an apron. I did a silent fist pump when he wasn't looking.

"This is called dish soap, Finn. This does not go in food. This is poisonous. You're cooking is now not only disgusting, but also dangerous! You're lucky you have me."

"You're saving lives." I said in mock seriousness. "Let me go get you some sort of award."

"You should be locked up." Kurt shook his head. He suddenly lost his balance, and slammed into the fridge. He winced, and for a moment I thought he was going to yell or cry. But he took a deep breath and turned back to the mess, busying himself with cleaning up and trying to see what could be salvaged.

I filled the sink with soap and water, and leant back against the counter listening to Kurt ramble on about the difference between sugar and salt and how they are not "basically the same".

There was no way Kurt was completely better again, or happy. But for the first time in months he was not thinking about Blaine or the attack. For this one afternoon he was able to be a normal teenager. I'd given him a distraction, a way out. I lead him to remember he had a life outside of what had happened to him. Today, he had smiled. Maybe I wasn't completely hopeless after all. Looking into my brother's face and seeing him smile, and knowing me and my actions were the reason for that was the proudest I'd ever felt.

I wish I could say after that things got much better, but they didn't. Sometimes Kurt had good days. Sometimes he laughed and smiled. Sometimes he was alert and attentive. Other days were much worse. Sometimes he'd spend all day curled up in bed crying. Sometimes he woke up at night screaming and crying for Blaine. Sometimes he begged me to let him kill himself. Sometimes I knew how to help him, but most times I didn't. And it broke my heart.

* * *

**AN: Ok please don't kill me, I know this is heart breaking but I swear it will get better! And in the mean time here's some sweet Hudmel brothers and Kurtana.**

****


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